


One Gaudy Night

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the birthday festivities are over, Jack has one last gift to give Phryne. AU for the end of "King Memses' Curse".</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Gaudy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Phryne’s line to Jack in “Murder in the Dark” always makes me think of the novel _Gaudy Night_ by Dorothy L. Sayers, another story of two fiercely independent people finding their way to one another. In a roundabout way, that story is responsible for this one.

_“We shall know what things are of overmastering importance when they have overmastered us.” – Dorothy L. Sayers, **Gaudy Night**_

The party was over. Phryne propped an elbow on the mantel and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. She felt she had put on an admirable face for her birthday celebration. Bert and Cec had driven a sleepy Arthur and a tipsy Aunt Prudence home, Dr. MacMillan had given a reluctant Hugh a ride to his mother’s house, Jane was tucked away safely in bed, and Dot and Mr. Butler had acquiesced to Phryne’s insistence that they retire and leave the dishes til tomorrow.

Only Jack was left, still leaning in the parlour doorway as though his shoulder was needed to prop up the house, holding a barely-touched glass of whiskey in one hand, still watching her with a curious jumble of emotions flickering through eyes that had seemed to get softer and more brilliantly blue as the night went on. 

Phryne swayed over to him with a tired smile. “Have you moved all evening?” she teased, liberating his glass from his fingers and letting the whiskey burn its smooth soft way down her throat. It was a welcome jolt after hours of fizz and made her feel considerably more real. 

Jack pretended to consider the question. “Once or twice. Jane insisted that I dance with her. She’s very forward, your ward.”

“Hmm, can’t imagine where she gets that from.”

“Do you need anything?”

The gentleness of the question found a mark, like an arrow finding gold, and suddenly the past several days came roaring back to her. “Sleep,” she said. “Or at the very least, rest.” Perhaps, she mused, sipping the amber liquid again and feeling a milder fire this time, it wasn’t the alcohol that made her feel more grounded. Perhaps it was the presence, close and steady, of her dour detective-inspector in his charcoal suit. 

A combination of champagne and mental fatigue made Phryne lean forward, or maybe she just needed someone to hold her, she wasn’t sure, but she found herself in Jack’s embrace without quite knowing how she got there. His arms were strong around her, his hands were light and warm on her shoulder blades, and she could have sworn his lips were in her hair. 

“Thank you, Jack,” she said, reluctantly pulling away, though her free hand lingered on his chest a second too long for mere friendship. “I needed that.” Phryne combed her fingers through her hair, tucking a few strands idly behind her ear. He smiled and re-appropriated the last of his whiskey from her. “Can you stay for another drink? Or do you need to go home?”

He pursed his lips and then set the glass on a nearby shelf. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want me to go or not.”

Phryne stared at him in mute wonder. She wasn’t that drunk, surely… She never drank nearly as much as a hostess as she did as a guest, even in her own home, and she tried to make it a point not to get sozzled around Jane… 

Jack waited. “Do you want me to go?” he prodded, a hint of uncertainty entering his voice. 

“That… depends.”

“…On?”

“On what you had in mind for the rest of the evening.”

“Ah.” Phryne was irresistibly drawn to Jack’s mouth as he spoke, and the way his teeth tugged lightly at his bottom lip. His eyes darkened promisingly, and he drew her back into his arms. “It is your birthday, after all, Miss Fisher. And I do believe… I owe you one gaudy night.” His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb to brush over her lips. 

The sensation of skin on skin was so simple and exquisite that Phryne almost cried out, and an anguished demand that he kiss her bubbled up in her throat, only to die a happy death when he did it without prompting. He crushed his lips softly down on hers, with an urgency to answer her own.

“When I carried you out of that cellar,” he said when they parted for breath, his voice low and deep and soft as velvet, “I realized that having you in my arms once, was never going to be enough.”

Phryne let out a breath she had been holding for months, and looked up at Jack through her lashes with an expression as sincere as it was sultry. “So I’m to get my Roman soldier after all?” 

His smile, wicked and gentle, curled its way into her and made her clench in anticipation. “‘I will be treble-sinew’d, hearted, breathed,’” he murmured, shivering as her arms twined about his neck. “‘Let’s mock the midnight bell.’”

  
_**Cleopatra** _  
_It is my birth-day:_  
_I had thought to have held it poor: but, since my lord_  
_Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra._

_**Mark Antony** _  
_We will yet do well._  



End file.
